The One Where Chris Sucks
by Velma
The first time it happens is in Germany, in a dark hotel room and Chris remembers having to be quiet, ridiculously so, because Howie was paranoid Kevin was going to hear."Jesus," Chris whispers, "I gotta. Come on, man." He doesn't know how he's supposed to keep his mouth shut when Howie's mouth is doing fucking incredible things to his dick. But Howie's insistent and Jesus, Chris is pretty much ready to promise him his firstborn if he just keeps doing that.
"Don't they know?" Chris asks afterward, running his fingers absently through Howie's hair.
"Kevin does, of course, there's nothing Kevin doesn't know," Chris snorts as Howie rolls his eyes, "and Brian's ready to join PFLAG if I ever want to come out. I'm pretty sure AJ has a clue, but Nick, man. He's too young to have to worry about this stuff."
"Is anyone too young in this business?" Chris asks, but even in the darkness there's something in Howie's eyes that keeps him from pushing. He pushes Howie over onto his back, instead, and pretty soon they've both forgotten the conversation.
It goes on like that for most of the time they're both in Germany. It's safer than picking up someone in a club, and Howie, well, he's unreal in bed, and the arrangement works well for both of them. Beyond the sex, Howie's a fun guy, and he tolerates Chris's, uh, rather juvenile sense of humor. He even helps Chris pull a doozy of a prank on Kevin involving depilatory cream in his body wash.
Kevin will never really get over that.
It's informal, and light, and not even remotely sentimental, and Chris appreciates that. He misses it, when the Boys go back to the States and *NSYNC is on its own through Europe.
He sees Howie at industry functions, on and off again, and they always share a smile and a laugh but the opportunity never really exists to do much more. Every once in a while he'll get a package in the mail from Howie, some bizarre stuffed animal he's found or an album he thinks Chris will like and Chris reciprocates, every time and it's kind of cool. It distracts him from thinking about the craziness in his own life.
Things are really starting to blow up stateside when he actually runs into Howie again, on one of those rare nights when they're all out dancing and just enjoying their newfound celebrity. Howie's at a table in VIP and Chris slides in next to him, follows his eyes to where Nick and Justin are shoving playfully at each other.
"Is Justin trying to teach Nick how to dance?" Chris asks, chuckling.
"Looks like it," Howie says, shrugging. "Hey, if he succeeds, Fatima will have his babies."
Chris smiles and leans against Howie unconsciously, frowning a little when Howie pulls away. "You okay?" he asks.
Howie grunts and stands up. "I need another drink."
Chris nods and watches him go. Something's off, and he looks at Nick and Justin and back at Howie and thinks maybe he can guess why. He doesn't see Howie again that night, but he doesn't stay long himself after Justin and Nick disappear.
He begins to pay closer attention to things, to the way that Howie acts in appearances, the looks he casts Nick's way, and it starts to click. He starts sending Howie self-help books, "The Path to True Romance" and shit like that, and Cosmo magazines with headlines like "Ten Steps to Getting Your Man" but he cuts that out for a little while after Howie gives his cell phone number out at one of the Boys' concerts. Howie's kind of catty. He likes that.
He waits an appropriate amount of time, long enough for Howie to be lulled into false sense of security, before he starts in again. This time it's videos - "Salsa Dance Your Way Into His Heart" - and books - "Spicy Kitchens Lead to Spicy Bedrooms" - and it's after that one's delivered that Howie actually bites the bullet and calls him.
"You can lay off this anytime now, Kirkpatrick," Howie says, and he sounds annoyed.
"I recognize that tone of voice," Chris says, "it's Howie-tones for 'you're helping me out here big time, buddy, send on the porn.'"
"Jesus," Howie mutters.
"You love me," Chris says. Howie hangs up.They don't see each other for a good long while, then, what with management changes and record label shifting and on the few occasions they do see each other Kevin is all but hissing in Chris's direction and frankly, Chris is a little scared that if he gets too close Kevin'll drag him into a dungeon somewhere and chain him up and make him listen to Yanni or some other such torture. So Chris keeps his distance, and keeps sending Howie random crap they find on tour, like a t-shirt that says 'Don't Mess With Texas' and a dancing salsa jar. Since it's Howie's theme and all.
They finally run into each other again at afterparties at the Superbowl. Howie's looking pretty tight, Chris has to admit. He walks up behind him and starts blowing on the back of his neck, trying not to laugh as Howie twitches and swats behind him. Nick, who's been talking to Howie, doesn't even bother to conceal his amusement.
"Heya, Chris," he says, patting Chris on the shoulder as he slides past Howie, who turns and scowls.
"I'm sorry," Chris leans in conspiratorially, "was I interrupting a moment?"
"You know, seriously, you suck, Chris." Howie sighs.
"Aw, I did, didn't I? And yes, yes I do. Let me make it up to you by showing you just how well."
Howie looks put out, but he doesn't say no, either, and after a few more laps of the room they're in the limo headed back to Howie's hotel room.
"So, your panties still in a bunch over Carter, man?" Chris tilts his head and watches as Howie's face scrunches up. "Don't do that, man. Not pretty."
Howie flips him off and looks out the window. "Leave it alone, Chris, okay?"
Chris is quiet the rest of the ride. He's quiet in the elevator. And he's even quiet when they get inside the room, and Howie's hands are on him, his mouth. He's quiet until Howie bites his neck and slides inside of him and tells him the silence is killing his buzz.
Chris talks a lot then. Loudly.
After, when Howie's curled up around him, Chris runs his finger along Howie's long lashes, smiles when the eyes blink open and watch him. "You're kind of a looker, Dorough," he says softly. Howie sticks his tongue out at him.
"Seriously," he says. "I think, you know. If not Nick, there are other options out there." He's grateful for the dark, because there's heat in his cheeks that has nothing to do with arousal.
"Thanks," Howie smiles against his skin. "I don't know. Nick's…"
"Safe. I know," Chris says, smoothing a hand over Howie's hair. "But if you could be happy, with someone else..."
"Maybe someday," Howie says, "but right now I don't have time to look."
"Yeah," Chris presses his lips into Howie's hair, closing his eyes. "Yeah, I get that."
So it goes. They see each other every so often, and Chris sends Howie more random knick-knacks and Howie gets serious and actually manages to find Chris a signed first copy of "Old Man and the Sea" for his birthday, but Chris tries not to read too much into that. Because they're friends. Who have on occasion slept together in mind-blowingly good ways.
Chris is okay with that. Really, and it's only when Justin breaks up with Britney and the two of them go off on a tear that he admits to himself that maybe he's interested in Howie in more than a platonic way.
"Women suck," Justin mumbles, slouches down against Chris and clinks beer bottles with him.
"I suck," Chris says. "Not good enough for Howie, though." He sniffs.
"Aw, Chris," Justin says, kissing his cheek wetly, "if the sight of you naked didn't send me running screaming from the room, you know I'd be all over you like. Well, Britney on Wade."
"Thanks," Chris says, his mind not caught up. "Hey! I have a nice body."
His protest falls on deaf ears, though. Justin's passed out.
Chris doesn't do anything, though, not for a long time. He mulls and mopes and fidgets until Lance threatens to max out his AmEx card on roses if Chris doesn't do something. Chris has to act, because he's not a woman, and he doesn't send flowers.
Chris starts sending random crap again, from his road trip, the best damn empanadas ever from a dive in Virginia Beach, a picture of him in front of the Statue of Liberty, a hockey puck signed by Mario Lemieux.
It doesn't occur to him until Howie calls, somewhere near the end of the summer, that he hasn't really explained what he's doing.
"Hey," Howie says, "it's me."
"Dorough?" Chris says. "Man, I haven't thought of you in ages. How's life?"
"You sent me a package yesterday, Chris. Johnny Cash sings the metal hits of the '70s, '80s, and '90s?"
"Oh, right. Hell of an album," Chris fidgets.
"You okay?" Howie asks, and Chris grunts an affirmative into the phone.
"So," Chris says, pausing when he hears background noise.
"Stop it!" Howie mumbles away from the receiver. "Sorry about that, man. Nick says hey."
"Nick, huh?" Chris swallows.
"Yeah, he's shooting his video, I'm keeping him company."
"Oh," Chris says. He's quiet.
"So, yeah. Just wanted to say thanks and all. And see if there was anything you wanted to talk about."
"Nope," Chris says breezily. "Not a thing. Hey, listen. Gotta run. Have a great time with Carter, man."
"Okay," Howie says slowly, "but Chr" and that's all Chris hears before he hangs up.
Struck out. Bummer.
He kind of actively avoids Howie after that. No one wants to see their crush glowing happily with their crush's crush. And even though Howie didn't say one way or the other, Chris has a gut feeling, and he's never wrong.
"Bullshit you're never wrong," Joey says, when Chris explains this to him at Suede one night. "You were sure Kelly was going to have a boy, Kevin wanted your ass, and On the Line was going to be a box office hit."
"Kevin does want my ass," Chris grumbles. "He's just repressed. And two out of three ain't bad."
Turns out he's still carrying a torch, come Grammy time, because the second he sees Howie at Clive's bash he feels his stomach go all tight and twisty. He looks fucking amazing, and all happy and glowing and Chris is, in fact, a woman. Howie's talking with Aaron Carter, which is probably a bad sign, but Chris goes up anyway.
"Tell the truth," he says, smiling when Howie looks over, surprised. "You and JC, man. You've been having a secret affair and your matching hairdos are your way of forcing the world to recognize your love."
Aaron cracks up and walks away.
"Hello yourself," Howie says with a smile. "Long time no see, Kirkpatrick."
"What can I say," Chris says, "I'm a man in hot demand."
"I'm not surprised," Howie says softly, and Chris looks over quickly, but Howie's head's down. "Hey, you wanna maybe get some air?"
Chris nods and follows Howie through the press of bodies to a back alley, resting against the wall and watching him.
"You kinda fell of the face of the planet there, Chris," Howie says, glancing over.
Chris sighs. "Look, man. I'm sorry. If it wasn't readily apparent that I was stupid about you, I kind of was. For a while there. Still am, sorta, and when you finally got with Nick I thought I should stop harassing you."
Howie's silent for a minute, then starts to laugh, soft chuckles that quickly get louder. "Oh, Chris. Oh, Chris, man. Jesus."
Chris frowns and kicks at the ground.
"You're such an idiot, man. Nick and I, God, no. Nick wasn't interested in me, Chris. Not ever. I got over that a couple years ago."
Chris frowns some more. "So, okay. You're not together. That's good?"
"Yeah," Howie says. "He's my best friend, but it never would have worked. Besides. I kind of used him to actively avoid what was right in front of my face for way too long. And if you don't stop kicking the ground you're going to break something."
Chris flushes and looks up. "So what, then? What does that mean, exactly?"
Howie shrugs. "I have no idea, Chris, but you seemed a while back like you were sort of interested in maybe seeing where things might lead. Well, I am, too."
Chris chews on his lip, then scoots down the wall, nudging Howie. "It's 'cause, even after all these years, I suck so good, isn't it? I mean, really, Dorough. You couldn't get enough of my ass, could you?"
Howie groans, but he's laughing. "Some things never change. Thank God." He presses a keycard into Chris's hand. "Maybe later we can find out, huh?"
"You're going to make me wait even longer?" Chris whines, following him inside. "That's brutal."
Howie flips his hair and grins slyly at Chris over his shoulder and woah, that's hot.
"Brutal," Chris murmurs under his breath. But he thinks it's probably well worth the wait.
- fin -
for Cathy